Set down that name in the warrant if you are determined to be bubbled by that fellow there and made to look foolish afterwards with my Lord Carteret." Mr.Templeton sat back in his chair, frowning; but more from utter bewilderment now than anger.
"Perhaps," said Mr.Caryll, "if I were to explain, it would help you to see the imposture that is being practiced upon you.

As for the allegations that have been made against me--that I am a Jacobite spy and an agent of the Pretender's--" He shrugged, and waved an airy hand.

"I scarce think there will remain the need for me to deny them when you have heard the rest." Rotherby took a step forward, his face purple, his hands clenched.

Her ladyship thrust out a bony claw, clutched at his sleeve, and drew him back and into the chair beside her.

"Pho! Charles," she said; "give the fool rope, and he'll hang himself, never doubt it--the poor, witless creature." Mr.Caryll sauntered over to the secretaire, and leaned an elbow on the top of it, facing all in the room.
"I admit, Mr.Secretary," said he, "that I had occasion to assault Mr.Green, to the end that I might possess myself of the papers he was seeking in this desk." "Why, then--" began Mr.Templeton.
"Patience, sir! I admit so much, but I admit no more.